The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2) (31 page)

“There are twenty more inside the castle,”
Drekk’hul told Talon.
“I was able to find the information he was unwilling to give.”

“Did you get the location of the key?” Talon asked aloud in a whisper.

“I will guide your feet.”

“Thank you,” Talon said with a smile.

This Kruk, and the one from the mountain, had been much easier to defeat than he had anticipated. He figured that either Drekk’hul was giving him great strength, or that the ability of the Svetli’Tai Kruk may have been exaggerated by the elves from whom he had previously extracted information. Either way, he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy this night. Still, he would be cautious as there was no need for carelessness now that he was so close. He was within reach of the last item he needed in order to open the Netherworld Gate.

A large smile formed on his lips when he thought of that. He would become a king over an army of agile and skilled warriors. An entire army that would act on any command he gave as though it was their sole purpose in life. That thought pleased him very much. It was also intriguing for him to think on the notion of an army that could wield magic, as had the old Sierri’Tai in Bluewater. The prospect of such power under his control almost made him drunk with delight. He turned his gaze back to the castle ruins and disappeared into the grass once more.

As Talon advanced up the hill he forced all other thoughts from his mind except for the task at hand. Now he focused with all of his mental acuity on the infiltration of this castle. He crouched quietly in the grass while it grew darker around him with the approach of night. Apparently no one had noticed the recent battle in the valley because Talon had not seen or heard any movement since then.

Talon inched up to the castle wall slowly. Instead of trying to enter the courtyard through the gate he decided to climb up the wall using the exceptionally strong vines that were growing underneath the ivy that had grown over the wall through the past five centuries. Talon put on a pair of leather gloves that had small metal spikes on the palms to assist in climbing. Within a few moments he was peeking over the top of the wall just enough to check for other guards on the battlement. He saw one Kruk on the battlement walking away from him about ten yards to his left. He scanned the other directions and saw movement in the towers on the northern wall, but no one else was on the southern wall.

He slid over the parapet and slid a dagger into his right hand. He ran as fast as he could, while staying hunched and silent so as not to be seen or heard until the last moment. He sprang up behind the Kruk, shoved his dagger into the guard’s lower back and slammed his hand over the guard’s mouth as he pulled him down. The spikes on his glove tore into the guard’s cheek and made it impossible for the guard to get away. Talon removed the dagger and thrust it into the Kruk’s neck twice before moving on to the nearest tower at the southwestern corner of the wall.

He ducked down and slid up against the waist high wall of the tower and waited. There was no shouting, no bells and no whistles. The guards had not seen him. He peeked over the wall and gauged the distance to the northwest tower. He quickly removed his climbing gloves and put on his plain leather gloves. There was no need for the spikes now that he was done climbing vines.

He pulled out a mini-crossbow and loaded a bolt. He slowly slid his weapon onto the wall and took aim at a guard in the northwest tower. He slowed his breathing and counted to three. Then he fired the weapon and watched until he saw the guard clutch at his forehead and slump down.

Talon reloaded and then looked into the courtyard. There were four guards talking and eating at a small table off to the left of a doorway. He rested the mini-crossbow at his feet and pulled out his throwing daggers. He held two daggers in his right hand and the third in his left. He took in a deep breath and focused. He pictured the four men at the table in his mind. He visualized his throw, and the death of his targets. He let out the breath slowly and then jumped to his feet. He let all three of the daggers fly and then he grabbed his crossbow and took aim. Three elves jolted and cried out. Talon fired the min-crossbow and the fourth elf went down without a sound.

A bell rang in the northeastern tower. Shouts and curses rose up from the wounded elves in the courtyard. Talon smiled and pulled Drekk’hul from its sheath. He snuck a peek over the wall and saw two elves running around the wall towards him with a third remaining in the tower. The assassin realized that the third was not merely standing in the tower, but taking aim with a bow. As fast as the assassin was, there was no way he could dodge the arrow. It sailed at him with blinding speed. Just as it was about to strike his chest, the arrow spun away as if it had glanced off an invisible shield. The assassin was astonished, but he soon knew the truth of it. Drekk’hul was warm in his hand, glowing violet.

“As I drink of the Svetli’Tai blood, I become stronger,”
Drekk’hul said.

Talon rushed along the wall, eager to meet the two Kruk’s advancing toward him. Arrows zinged by him, but he was unafraid of the missiles. Drekk’hul magically shielded him from any shaft that came close to hitting him. Some of them burst into flame and were destroyed, others exploded into harmless dust and pulp, and the rest were swept away by the invisible shield.

The approaching elves raised their weapons and cried out to their gods. Talon smiled and rushed in. He cut left and then right with his blade. The force of his strikes shattered both of the scimitars and the elves had to backpedal to avoid certain death. One of them pulled a knife from his belt and dove forward, slashing and stabbing at Talon while the other pulled a pair of tomahawks. The assassin sidestepped the first elf, spun around and stabbed Drekk’hul through the Kruk’s side. The blade squealed in ecstasy. The second elf advanced without giving Talon enough time to pull his sword back, so the assassin yanked the scabbard off his belt and parried the tomahawks.

The wounded Kruk still lashed out with his knife, but Talon sent a backhanded swing of the scabbard at the elf’s head and crushed his skull. Talon pulled his glowing sword free and launched a series of blocks as the next elf swung furiously with his tomahawks. Talon brought the hard scabbard into the battle, clubbing at the elf’s side with his left hand and soon put the tomahawk wielder on the defensive. Talon gracefully cut and sliced the air with his sword while he drove devastating blows into the elf’s ribs and shoulders with his scabbard. Each swing of the hard, metal scabbard drove the elf closer to death while the blade teased him and frustrated his attacks.

A cloud of smoke spewed forth from the mouth of the scabbard and wrapped itself around the elf like a giant serpent. The elf screamed in rage and swung his tomahawks wildly, but didn’t come close to striking Talon. The assassin marveled at the sword’s power for an instant before thrusting the blade into the swirling cloud to end the Kruk’s life.

Talon sprinted along the wall toward the northeast tower. The archer was frantically firing arrow after arrow, but none of them hit their mark. Even as the assassin came with a few feet the archer nocked another arrow to the bow.

“Fool,” Talon chided. The archer died an instant later as Drekk’hul pierced through the Kruk’s heart and drank deeply of the elf’s blood.

The assassin looked back to the courtyard and saw one Kruk still alive. The elf was crawling toward the entrance to the castle with the assassin’s dagger still protruding from his upper back. Talon bent down and took the bow from the dead archer. He sent the arrow of death flying down to the last Kruk. Then he sent three more, one to each of the other elves in the courtyard, just to be certain they were dead.

Afterwards he looked around and found a trapdoor in the center of the northeastern tower. He carefully opened the hatch and peered inside. The chamber below appeared to be empty, so he started down the ladder as silently as he could. Once he felt the floor beneath his feet, he sank back against the wall for a moment and listened. He didn’t hear anything. No footsteps, no shouts, and no bells. He thought that was curious, but he had already come too far to give up now. He saw two small doorways that appeared to lead to tunnels that would take him to the other towers. One tunnel ran due west while the other went due south. The third doorway faced northwest and the tunnel seemed to lead down into the earth. The assassin had not realized that the castle had underground passageways, but he decided to check it out.

The air here was cool and musty. Only a few torches gave off light as Talon proceeded. The tunnel had several branches breaking off into different directions, but the sword compelled Talon forward, down the main shaft.

“I will show you the way,”
Drekk’hul reminded Talon.

Talon followed Drekk’hul’s promptings for almost an hour, turning when the sword said turn, and going straight when it said straight. At last, he came to a large chamber. He sank down into the shadows and quickly studied the area. Here, five tunnels converged. There were no distinguishable marks in the room except for some faded runes above each of the tunnels.

“Taish,” Talon said to himself disdainfully. Without a grasp of the language the search could take hours.

Suddenly, the assassin’s hip grew very warm. He looked down to see that Drekk’hul was glowing. Talon looked up again and saw that a rune above one of the tunnels started to glow purple as well. Talon sneered and raced through the shadows and down the tunnel. This time he searched for only a few minutes before the tunnel ended abruptly.

Anxiously, he searched along the wall until he found a small bit of stone protruding out from the wall. Talon pressed it, but nothing happened. So he pulled on it, but again nothing happened. He then took a firm grip and twisted the stone protrusion like a doorknob. This time it responded. The outline of a door became visible and the stone portal moved enough to reveal some light behind it. Talon pushed, and the small, stone door opened up into another tunnel. This cave had many more torches than the others though, and the footpath was well worn with use. He knew he was getting close.

Talon had to duck down as he walked through the tunnel in order to keep from hitting his head against the stone ceiling. It was very obvious that this place had been built only for elves. He continued to wander through a large system of tunnels and stairs that descended downward a few more levels until finally he came to a very large chamber.

This chamber was huge. There were several rows of columns that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Talon looked up and guessed that the ceiling was forty feet above his head. The chamber was lit with torches that hung on four sides of each pillar. The floor was black marble, except for a strip of deep, crimson marble that led up to a golden throne. Talon’s heart skipped when he spied the small box on the throne. The key, he thought. It was then that he noticed the two figures in the shadows moving towards him from the far end of the room.

Talon stalked back into the shadows. He felt naked with all of the torches casting light through the room. There was no good place for him to hide. He slipped Drekk’hul out of its scabbard and slid along the wall, sticking to the small, dancing shadows as best he could. Then the two elves came out openly into the center of the chamber.

“We know that you have seen us,” one of them said in a stern tone. “There is no way out for you.” One of the elves clapped and a small portcullis slid down to cover the tunnel he had entered from.

Talon remained silent, not knowing exactly what to expect or what he should do.

“Come out of the shadows,” another elf said from Talon’s left. The assassin looked in the direction of the voice and saw two more Kruk’s advancing toward him. “We know that to come this far you must have beaten our brothers. We commend you for your skill and bravery, but it ends here. We will kill you.”

Suddenly a flash of flame started at the far end of the room and spread along the wall. It moved quickly with a tremendous roar as it raced around the room. At first Talon was worried, but then he realized that it was a mechanism for adding light to the room. A shallow vein of oil ran halfway up the wall, kept in place by an expertly crafted trough. The new fires flooded the large chamber with a golden glow of light. It was almost as bright as the open plains at midday.

“Nice trick,” Talon commented as he stepped forward.

“The Sierri’Tai were crafty,” one of the Kruks said. “I am sure you would be quick to agree with me.” The elf pointed to the blade in Talon’s hand.

The assassin smiled knowingly. “I would agree with you wholeheartedly.”

“Even with the dark blade, you cannot hope to defeat all of us,” a new voice called out as five more elves entered the chamber through a large doorway in the back. “There are nine of us and only one of you.”

“Then it is almost a fair fight,” Talon shouted back. “I will wait if you would like to get a few more helpers.”

None of the Svetli’Tai Kruk warriors laughed. They drew their scimitars and prepared for battle. “This is your last chance to surrender,” one of the elves called out.

“Would you accept my surrender?” Talon asked cynically.

“No,” the elf from the back declared. “But we must at least offer you the chance to do so. We will kill you either way for your trespass.”

Talon’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward and lifted his magical blade to the ready. “I will accept your challenge,” he shouted with a smile.

Without further conversation the two elves from Talon’s left dashed forward. Talon barely was able to dodge the attack. He leapt to his right and somersaulted away. He rose to his feet and was about to launch his own attack when he realized that two more elves were bearing down on him from behind. He turned to face them and slashed out with his sword. Steel rang against steel and sparks flew as Drekk’hul clashed against one of the elves’ blades. Talon rolled left and dodged a savvy thrust by another elf.